


A Girl Called Dave

by melodicDisarray (fabricatedMiracles)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, MSPARP Shenanigans, Trans Dave, Transgender, asylumstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricatedMiracles/pseuds/melodicDisarray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And in the end, Dave and Dave are.</p><p>She is, he is, they are as one.</p><p>Fuck, she's in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl Called Dave

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an RP I'm in on and off as Dave. I promised a look into her head; here it is.
> 
> My headcanon is that Asylumstuck is an alternate timeline and not an alternate universe, hence her dreams of canon Dave.

**_Twirl, tug, pull, drop._ **

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**_And again._ **

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**_And again._ **

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**_And again._ **

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**_Over and over, pale, delicate fingers, refined and lovely from years of stroking the smooth vinyl of records and fiddling with sliders and switches, find a new strand of hair to pull. Red eyes gaze blankly at the cedar surface of the desk._ **

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**_She doesn't want to do this, but if she doesn't, she panics, she can't focus, so she instead, instead, instead, instead chooses her compulsions over the obsessions she knows are constantly there._ **

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**_A pile, then, of fragile platinum hair collects on the desk to the quiet tunes of The Weepies, Panic! At the Disco, Marina and the Diamonds, and OneRepublic, the length in songs and seconds in the playlist safely, pleasantly divisible by four._ **

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**_When she looks up, finally, she blink-blink, blink-blinks; sixty-three strands rest on the desk and the sixty-fourth is caught between her fingertips. The walls, adorned with scenes from her imagination, painted as she perceives them, are the only four walls that let her feel safe. This is her sanctuary; this is her prison, this is her institution, this is her home._ **

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**_Always, never, now, forever._ **

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**_Her name is Dave Strider, and she knows that it wasn't always this way, and she knows she isn't insane, and she knows that she's a Knight, a hero, and she had to save the world, but something happened, something never happened, and another something almost happened, and she's stressed, angry, worried, bothered by the fact that there are only three somethings. She needs another something, so she makes it up, and she fills the void with the awareness that what's meant to fill the void is not there to fill it._ **

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**_Something's missing._ **

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**_Where it's missing, Dave can't say. In her, in the world, in her friends, in what they do? It could be any of them. But as long as there are four, four, four, four, she's fine with not pressing the matter._ **

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**_Schizophrenic, delusional, abused, traumatized; the doctors throw these words around when they think she can't hear them talking, and while she's sure, sure, sure, sure, four hundred forty four percent, that she isn't, that's what they say._ **

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**_He, him, his, man; these are the words the doctors use. These are the words the doctors see, but these are the words Dave uses. These are the words she sees; she, her, hers, woman._ **

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**_Doctor Jonathan Paramour Egbert is at her door, knock-knock, knock-knocking, and she appreciates the gesture. It's calculated, determined by the doctor's medical mind in an attempt to put her at ease, and it works, always works, and she drops the last hair into the neat pile before moving to the door to allow the doctor in._ **

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**_Blue, blue, blue, blue. This doctor is blue-scrubbed and blue-eyed, and he smiles like a breath of fresh air with his big buck teeth and his dimpled cheeks. He never forces her to speak, leaving her to her own devices if she isn't in the mood for talk. He knows her, from before, and doesn't question what other doctors have called delusions because he knows that she knows what she's talking about._ **

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**_He's only come to deliver her food, a meal prepared primly and properly just for her by the kitchen help, and she thanks him._ **

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**_He leaves, she orders her food, counting and measuring just to double-check everything, and then in silence, she eats, stacks her dishes on a tray, and then lays the tray beside her empty medication cup on the small table beside the door before crawling into bed in a sleep shirt and shorts, exhausted from the daily battle she fights against what the medical world calls delusions and what she calls visions._ **

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**_She gazes at the light coming in from the hall through the space between the door and the floor, curled in her bed with her crow plush in her arms, and she gazes at everything and nothing in the two inch by two feet strip of light, radiance, that sterile medical light, and shadows flicker-flicker-flicker-flicker in and through it and it makes her so sick, so sick..._ **

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**_The dark creeps in and eats her light, and she drifts through time, and there, in her dreams, she finds him, him-Dave, and he touches her face and he holds her hands and he wraps her up in his cape, and him-Dave tells her that she, she was not supposed to end this way, that Bro wasn't supposed to die like that, that if only, if only the world hadn't hurt her, she would have played the game, she would have been safer._ **

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**_They float in her dream, talking in hushed tones; their bodies, identical, touch skin to skin; their minds, his and hers, share thoughts and feelings; and their hearts beat as one, one, one, one._ **

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**_Dave holds onto her knight, onto him, onto Dave, and then, Stillers to Stillers, an unspoken understanding passes between them. Identical hands remove opposite eyewear, casting them aside into the void, careless, and mirrored lips meet, identical mouths moving to a rhythm set to the beat of this bubble._ **

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**_In this timeless void, they move together, they breathe and sigh, and then each of them, each of them is pulled back into the waking world._ **

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**_Her fingers slip out of his grasp, despite him trying, trying to hold her, to keep her, to tether himself..._ **

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**_And then her eyes flutter open to the light of the sun shining in through her blinds._ **

**_She is still a few moments, and then, and then, and then, and then, she screams in pain, curling into herself beneath her blankets and clawing her arm, the Scratch mark she has reopening once again to give her, in a sense, respite from the angry, fierce crowing of Davesprite, vengeful, the Lord of Mind, who wants her to go, to go back to Dave. To dream him again._**

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**_She cannot please the bird._**

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**_She pays the price in red, red blood._**


End file.
